


Regret

by Jakathine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakathine/pseuds/Jakathine





	Regret

Regret.

It settled heavy on Anderson’s mind as he watched the news broadcast dictating the death of Sherlock Holmes. He turned away from the telly and buried his head in his hands, disbelief overwhelming him. He felt a hand on his shoulder. From between his fingers he saw Sally looking up at him, grief etched onto her face. He could not look at her and instead pushed her hand away and walked out of the Yard’s doors and ventured home. Once there he let himself loose, crying and cursing himself for the things he had ever said to Sherlock.

Fake. Freak. Show-off. Along with other horrendous names Anderson had spouted at him resurfaced in his memory alongside the way he had laughed alongside Sally with whenever the insults actually hit home with Sherlock wincing or frowning. Feeling sick, he ran into the bathroom to promptly vomit into the toilet. Anderson flopped onto the bathroom floor, his brain frazzled beyond compare.  He realized that he really did admire Sherlock and his incredible deduction skills, albeit at times making himself seem more aloof than anyone else.

Rubbing his forehead, Anderson stood and meandered his way to his living room, crashing on the couch and tucking himself into as tight of a ball as possible. He could not –would not -- believe Sherlock Holmes, the genius consulting detective, committed suicide. He simply could not.

Two Years Later:

“All right, everyone, settle down.” Anderson said as the group gathered in his living room.

It was a group of half a dozen or so members, loyal like Anderson to the belief that Sherlock Holmes had somehow managed to escape a death that seemed too perfectly enacted. Anderson rubbed at the short beard he had sprouted as of late. He really did need to remember to shave more often but the endless night of research had left him little time to think of much else besides basic care. He glanced at the wall, with the seemingly endless scraps of paper tacked to it and strings attaching their tips together. So much research yet so little results.

The meeting was in full swing, with the members straightening deer stalkers and scarves as they listened to Anderson speak.

“Everyone have their sheet?” Anderson asked as he turned down the volume on the television. Upon seeing some giving small nods he continued, “Today we’re going to be doing more searching. Going back past Gower St. to gather more information, just in case we’ve missed anything. Street cleaners have been frequenting the area, so I hope that they have not tampered too much with anything close to buildings. Any questions?”

One was just opening her mouth and looking at the news broadcast that had been playing on the television when suddenly cell phones began ringing wildly. Anderson looked around, confused at the sudden commotion. Everyone pulled out their cell phones and on them said mysterious texts that said:

“#notdead, #sherlocklives, #sherlocksnotdead, and #sherlockholmesalive.”

One of the members held up her phone to show Anderson, who leaned in to read the texts’ signature on the empty message. His eyes widened with shock.

_Sherlock Holmes was alive!_


End file.
